THE BEGINNING AND PROGRESS OF EMANCIPATION IN THE BRITISH WEST INDIES.

Nothing has ever been done in this world more wicked and cruel than the slave-trade on the coast of Africa. But the temptation to carry it on was very great; for hundreds of men and women could be bought for a cask of poor rum or a peck of cheap beads, and could be sold in the markets of America or the West Indies for thousands of dollars. A hundred years ago men were not at all ashamed of growing rich in this bad way. They were respected in society as much as other men. They were often members of churches and professed to be very pious. Perhaps they deceived themselves, as well as others, and really thought they were pious, because they observed all the ritual forms of religion. But, above all their prayers, God heard the groans and the cries of the poor tortured Africans. He put it into the heart of a young Englishman, named Thomas Clarkson, to inquire into the wicked business, that was going on under the sanction of the government, and unreproved by the Church. In the course of his investigations, this young man discovered that the most shocking cruelties were habitually practised. He found that poor creatures stolen from their homes were packed close, like bales of goods, in the dark holds of ships, where they were half choked by bad odors from accumulated filth, and where they could hardly breathe for want of air. The food allotted them was merely enough to keep them alive. Many died of grief and despair, and still more of burning fevers and other diseases. Living and dead often remained huddled together for hours, and when the corpses were removed they were thrown out to the sharks. But the sea-captains engaged in this horrid traffic were selfish as well as cruel. They did not like to have their victims die, because every one they lost on the passage diminished the dollars they expected to get by selling them. So at times they brought the poor half-dead wretches on deck and drove them round with a whip for exercise, and insulted their misery by compelling them to dance, and sing the songs they had sung in their native land.

Thomas Clarkson called public attention to the subject by publishing these things in a pamphlet. More than thirty years before, the humane sect called Quakers had forbidden any of its members to be connected with the slave-trade. But though the abominable traffic had been carried on more than two hundred and fifty years by various nations calling themselves Christian, there had been no attempt to excite general attention to the subject till Clarkson published his pamphlet in 1786, seventy-nine years ago. He became so much interested in the question that he gave up all other pursuits in life, and wrote, and lectured, and talked about it incessantly. The assembled representatives of the people which we call a Congress, is called a Parliament in Great Britain.[7] He tried to bring the subject before that body, and succeeded in gaining the attention of some members, among whom the most conspicuous was the benevolent William Wilberforce. He soon joined Mr. Clarkson in the formation of a Society for the Abolition of the Slave-trade. This of course gave great offence to the sea-captains and merchants engaged in the profitable traffic. Clarkson met with all manner of insult and abuse, and his life was sometimes in danger. The British government did as governments are apt to do,—it sided with the rich and powerful as long as it was politic to do so. But, though many of the aristocracy were haughty and selfish, the generality of the common people were ready to sympathize with the poor and the oppressed. When they became aware of the outrages committed in the slave-trade, they determined that a stop should be put to it. They wrote, and talked, and petitioned Parliament, till the government was compelled to pay some attention to their demands. When the friends of the infernal traffic found that a resolution to abolish it was likely to be passed, they contrived to get the word "gradual" inserted into the resolution, and thus defeated the will of the people; for the gradual abolition of crime is no abolition at all. It was as absurd as it would have been for them to say they would abolish murder gradually. But though the law was insufficient to accomplish the desired purpose, public opinion against the trade exerted an increasing influence. The friends of those who were engaged in it began to apologize for it as a necessary branch of trade, and pleaded that laborers could not be supplied in the hot climate of the West Indies in any other way. They were even shameless enough to defend it and praise it as a benevolent scheme to bring savages away from heathen Africa and make good Christians of them. Mr. Boswell, a well-known English writer of that period, went so far as to pronounce it "a trade which God had sanctioned"; and he declared that "to abolish it would be to shut the gates of mercy on mankind." Such pretences deceived some. But the English people have a great deal of good common sense; and it was not easy to convince them that stealing men, women, and children from their homes, torturing them on the ocean, and selling them in strange lands, to be whipped to incessant toil without wages, was a pious missionary enterprise.

Clarkson, Wilberforce, and others continued their unremitting labors to suppress the unrighteous traffic; the kindly sect of Quakers everywhere assisted them; and benevolent people in other sects became more and more convinced that it was their duty to do the same. All manner of obstacles were put in the way of the desired reformation; but at last, after twenty-two years of violent agitation, the slave-trade was entirely abolished by Great Britain, at the commencement of the year 1808. Sixteen years later, it was decreed by law that any British subject caught in the traffic should be punished as a pirate.

The king, George the Third, was opposed to the abolition, and so were all the royal family, except the Duke of Gloucester. The nobility and wealthy people, with a few honorable exceptions, took the same side. The measure was carried by the good sense and good feeling of the common people of Great Britain.

There were no slaves in Great Britain. It had been decided by law that any slave who landed in that country became free the moment he touched the shore. But many of the West India islands, lying between North and South America, were under the British government, and the laborers there were held in Slavery. The English people knew very little what was going on in those distant colonies. When West India planters visited their relatives and friends in Great Britain, they made out a very fair story for themselves. They said none but negroes could work in such a hot climate, that sugar must be made, and negroes would not work unless they were slaves. They represented themselves as very kind masters, and described their bondmen as a very contented and merry class of laborers. These planters were generally dashing men, who spent freely the money they did not earn; and their fine manners and smooth talk gave the impression that they must be gentle men.

People were slow to believe the accounts of cruelties practised in the West Indies by these polished gentlemen. But more and more facts were brought to light to prove that there was little to choose between the slave-trade and the system of Slavery. When the honest masses of the British people became convinced that the slaves in the West Indies were entirely subject to the will of their masters, however licentious that will might be, and that they were kept in such brutal ignorance they could not read the Bible, they said at once that such a system ought to be abolished. They sent missionaries to the West Indies to teach the negroes. The planters considered this an impertinent interference with their affairs. They said if slaves were instructed they would rise in rebellion against their masters. The English people replied that it must be a very bad system which made it dangerous for human beings to read the Bible. The more closely they inquired into the subject, the more their indignation was roused. Brown faces and yellow faces among the slaves told a shameful story of licentious masters, while the chains and whips and other instruments of torture found on every plantation proved that severe treatment was universal. Again the honest masses of the English people rose up in their moral majesty and said that wrong should be righted. The government was unfavorable to the abolition of Slavery, and the aristocracy, with a few honorable exceptions, sympathized with the slaveholders. The West-Indian planters were boiling over with rage. They pulled down the chapels where the negroes met together to hear the words of Jesus; they mobbed the missionaries, they thrust them into dungeons, and two or three of them were killed. Some of the planters thought Slavery was a bad system, but they had to be very cautious in expressing such an opinion; for if they were even suspected of favoring abolition, their neighbors were sure to make them suffer for it in some way. Even women seemed to be filled with the spirit of Furies, whenever the subject of Slavery was mentioned. One of them said, if she could get hold of Mr. Wilberforce she would tear his heart out. Everywhere one heard mournful predictions of the ruin and desolation that would follow emancipation. They insisted that negroes would not work unless they were slaves, and of course no crops could be raised; and what was still more to be dreaded, they would murder all the whites and set fire to the towns. Sometimes they would present the subject from a benevolent point of view, and urge that it would be the greatest unkindness to the negroes to give them freedom; for when they had no kind masters to take care of them they would certainly starve.

The slaves of course found out that something in their favor was going on in England. They watched eagerly for the arrival of vessels; they took notice of everything that was said; if they could get hold of a scrap of newspaper they hid it away, and those who could read would read it privately to the others. If their masters were unusually cross, or swore more than common, they would wink at each other and say, "There's good news for us from England."

The masters, on their part, watched the slaves closely. If they were more silent than common, or if they appeared to be in better spirits than common, they suspected them of plotting insurrections. But the negroes did more wisely than that. They believed that good people in England were working for them, and they tried to be patient till they were emancipated by law. There was but one exception to this. The planters in Jamaica were more bitter and furious than in the other islands. They formed societies to uphold Slavery, and made flaming speeches against the people and Parliament of Great Britain for "setting the slaves loose upon them," as they called it. They did not reflect that their colored servants, as they passed in and out, heard this violent language and had sense enough to draw conclusions from it. But they did draw from it a conclusion very dangerous to their masters. They had heard talk of emancipation for several years, and it seemed to them that the promised freedom was a long time coming. In 1832, the speeches of the planters were so furious against the doings in Parliament, that the slaves received the idea that the British government had already passed laws for their freedom, and that their masters were cheating them out of the legal rights that had been granted them. It was a sad mistake for the poor fellows, and brought a great deal of suffering upon themselves and others. They rose in insurrection, and it is said destroyed property to the amount of six millions of dollars. But instead of being protected by the British government, as they had expected, soldiers were sent over to put down the insurrection, and many of the negroes were shot and hung.

Meanwhile their friends in England were working for them zealously. They published pamphlets and papers and made speeches, and urgently petitioned Parliament to "let the people go." One petition alone was signed by eight hundred thousand women. One of the members, pointing to the enormous roll, said: "There is no use in trying longer to resist the will of the people. When all the women in Great Britain are knocking at the doors of Parliament, something must be done."

The government and the aristocracy were very reluctant to comply with the demand of the people. But at last, after eleven years of more violent struggle than it had taken to suppress the African slave-trade, Slavery itself was abolished in the British West Indies forever. The decree was to go into effect on the 1st day of August, 1834. Up to the very last day, the planters persisted in saying that the measure would ruin the islands. They said the emancipated slaves would do no work, but would go round in large gangs, robbing, stealing, murdering the whites, burning the houses, and destroying the fields of sugar-cane. If the negroes had been revengeful, they might have done a great deal of mischief; for there were five times as many colored people in the islands as there were whites. But they were so thankful to get their freedom at last, that there was no room in their hearts for bad feelings. The tears were in their eyes as they told each other the good news, and said, "Bress de Lord and de good English people."

But many of the masters really believed their own alarming prophesies. When they found that emancipation could not be prevented, numbers left the islands. Some of those who remained did not dare to undress and go to bed on the night of the 31st of July; and those who tried to sleep were generally restless and easily startled.

But while masters and mistresses were dreading to hear screams and alarms of fire, their emancipated slaves were flocking to the churches to offer up prayers and hymns of thanksgiving.

In the island of Antigua there were thirty thousand slaves when the midnight clock began to strive twelve, on the 31st of July, 1834; and when it had done striking they were all free men and free women. It was a glorious moment, never to be forgotten by them during the remainder of their lives. The Wesleyan Methodists kept watch-night in all their chapels. One of the missionaries who exhorted the emancipated people and prayed with them thus described the solemn scene:—

"The spacious house was filled with the candidates for liberty. All was animation and eagerness. A mighty chorus of voices swelled the song of expectation and joy; and as they united in prayer, the voice of the leader was drowned in the universal acclamations of thanksgiving and praise and blessing and honor and glory to God, who had come down for their deliverance. In such exercises the evening was spent, until the hour of twelve approached. The missionary then proposed that when the cathedral clock should begin to strike, the whole congregation should fall on their knees, and receive the boon of freedom in silence. Accordingly, as the loud bell tolled its first note, the crowded assembly prostrated themselves. All was silence, save the quivering, half-stifled breath of the struggling spirit. Slowly the tones of the clock fell upon the waiting multitude. Peal on peal, peal on peal, rolled over the prostrate throng, like angels' voices, thrilling their weary heartstrings. Scarcely had the last tone sounded, when lightning flashed vividly, and a loud peal of thunder rolled through the sky. It was God's pillar of fire. His trump of jubilee. It was followed by a moment of profound silence. Then came the outburst. They shouted 'Glory! Hallelujah!' They clapped their hands, they leaped up, they fell down, they clasped each other in their free arms, they cried, they laughed, they went to and fro, throwing upward their unfettered hands. High above all, a mighty sound ever and anon swelled up. It was the utterance of gratitude to God.

"After this gush of excitement had spent itself, the congregation became calm, and religious exercises were resumed. The remainder of the night was spent in singing and prayer, in reading the Bible, and in addresses from the missionaries, explaining the nature of the freedom just received, and exhorting the people to be industrious, steady, and obedient to the laws, and to show themselves in all things worthy of the high boon God had conferred upon them.

"The 1st of August came on Friday; and a release from all work was proclaimed until the next Monday. The great mass of the negroes spent the day chiefly in the churches and chapels. The clergy and missionaries throughout the island actively seized the opportunity to enlighten the people on all the duties and responsibilities of their new relation. The day was like a Sabbath. A Sabbath, indeed, when 'the wicked ceased from troubling and the weary were at rest.'

"The most kindly of the planters went to the chapels where their own people were assembled, and shook hands with them, and exchanged hearty good wishes.

"At Grace Hill, a Moravian missionary station, the emancipated negroes begged to have a sunrise meeting on the 1st of August, as they had been accustomed to have at Easter; and as it was the Easter morning of their freedom, the request was granted. The people all dressed in white, and walked arm in arm to the chapel. There a hymn of thanksgiving was sung by the whole congregation kneeling. The singing was frequently interrupted by the tears and sobs of the melted people, until finally they were overwhelmed by a tumult of emotion.

"There was not a single dance by night or day; not even so much as a fiddle played. There were no drunken carousals, no riotous assemblies. The emancipated were as far from dissipation and debauchery as they were from violence and carnage. Gratitude was the absorbing emotion. From the hill-tops and the valleys the cry of a disenthralled people went upward, like the sound of many waters: 'Glory to God! Glory to God!'"

Mr. Bleby, one of the Methodist missionaries in Jamaica, thus describes the same night in that island:—

"The church where the emancipated people assembled, at ten o'clock at night, was very large; but the aisles, the gallery stairs, the communion-place, the pulpit stairs, were all crowded; and there were thousands of people round the building, at every open door and window, looking in. We thought it right and proper that our Christian people should receive their freedom as a boon from God, in the house of prayer; and we gathered them together in the church for a midnight service. Our mouths had been closed about Slavery up to that time. We could not quote a passage that had reference even to spiritual emancipation, without endangering our lives. The planters had a law of 'constructive treason,' that doomed any man to death who made use of language tending to excite a desire for liberty among the slaves; and they found treason in the Bible and sedition in the hymns of Watts and Wesley, and we had to be very careful how we used them. You may imagine with what feelings I saw myself emancipated from this thraldom, and free to proclaim 'liberty to the captive, and the opening of prison doors to them that were bound.' I took for my text, 'Proclaim liberty throughout all the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof. It shall be a jubilee unto you.'

"A few minutes before midnight, I requested all the people to kneel down in silent prayer to God, as befitting the solemnity of the hour. I looked down upon them as they knelt. The silence was broken only by sobs of emotion, which it was impossible to repress. The clock began to strike. It was the knell of Slavery in all the British possessions! It proclaimed liberty to eight hundred thousand human beings! When I told them they might rise, what an outburst of joy there was among that mass of people! The clock had ceased to strike, and they were slaves no longer! Mothers were hugging their babes to their bosoms, old white-headed men embracing their children and husbands clasping their wives in their arms. By and by all was still again, and I gave out a hymn. You may imagine the feelings with which these people, just emerging into freedom, shouted

But though the dreaded 1st of August passed away so peacefully and pleasantly, the planters could not get rid of the idea that their laborers would not work after they were free. Mr. Daniell, who managed several estates in Antigua, talking of the subject, two years afterward, with an American gentleman from Kentucky, said: "I expected some irregularities would follow such a prodigious change in the condition of the negroes. I supposed there would be some relaxation from labor during the week that followed emancipation; but on Monday morning, I found all my hands in the field, not one missing. The same day I received a message from another estate, of which I was proprietor, that the negroes, to a man, had refused to go into the field. I immediately rode to the estate, and found the laborers, with hoes in their hands, doing nothing. Accosting them in a friendly manner, I inquired, 'What is the meaning of this? How is it that you are not at work this morning?' They immediately replied, 'It's not because we don't want to work, massa; but we wanted to see you, first and foremost, to know what the bargain would be.' As soon as that matter was settled, the whole body of negroes turned out cheerfully." Another manager declared that the largest gang he had ever seen in the field, on his property, turned out the week after emancipation. And such in fact was the universal testimony of the managers throughout Antigua.

In the days of Slavery, it had always been customary to order out the militia during the Christmas holidays, when the negroes were in the habit of congregating in large numbers, to enjoy the festivities of the season. But the December after emancipation, the Governor issued a proclamation, that, "in consequence of the abolition of Slavery," there was no further need of taking that precaution. And it is a fact that there have been no soldiers out at Christmas from that day to this.

Unfortunately the British government had been so far influenced by the representations of the planters, that the plan of emancipation they adopted was a gradual one. All children under six years old were unconditionally free, the magistrates alone had power to punish, and no human being could be sold. But the slaves, under the new name of apprentices, were obliged to work for their masters six years longer without wages, except one day and a half in the week, which the law decreed should be their own. The number of hours they were to work each day was also stipulated by law. This was certainly a great improvement in their condition; but it was not all they had expected. They were peaceable, and worked more cheerfully than they had done while they were slaves; for now a definite date was fixed when they should own all their time, and they knew that every week brought them nearer to it. Still they felt that entire justice had not been done to them. Sometimes white men asked them if they would work when they were entirely free. They answered, "In Slavery time we work; now we work better; den how you tink we work when we free, when we get paid for work!" Sometimes people said to them, "I suppose you expect to do just as you please when you are your own masters?" They replied: "We 'spect to 'bey de law. In oder countries where dey is all free dey hab de law. We couldn't get along widout de law. In Slavery time, massa would sometimes slash we when we do as well as we could; but de law don't do harm to anybody dat behaves himself. 'Prenticeship is bad enough; but we know de law make it so, and for peace' sake we will be satisfy. But we murmur in we minds."

In the island of Antigua, planters rejected the plan of apprenticeship. They said, "If the negroes must be free, let them be free at once, without any more fuss and trouble." The result proved that they judged wisely for their own interest, as well as for the comfort and encouragement of their laborers. When the negroes found that they were paid for every day's work, they put their whole hearts into it. So zealous were they to earn wages, that they sometimes worked by moonlight, or by the light of fires kindled among the dry cane-stalks. In all respects, the change from the old order of things to the new went on more smoothly in Antigua than it did anywhere else.

In the islands where apprenticeship was tried, the irritability of the masters made it work worse than it would otherwise have done. All that most of them seemed to care for was to get as much work out of their servants as they could, during the six years that they were to work without wages, and it vexed them that they could not use the lash whenever they pleased. They took away various little privileges which they had been accustomed to grant; while during four days and a half of the week the apprentices received no wages to compensate them for the loss of those privileges. Being deprived of the power to sell the children, they refused to supply them with any food. In fact, they contrived every way to make the colored people think they had better have remained slaves. But if they called out, "Work faster, you black rascal, or I'll flog you!" the apprentices would sometimes lose patience, and answer, "You can't flog we now." That would make the master very angry, and he would send the apprentice to a magistrate to be punished for impudence. The magistrates were the associates of the planters; they ate their good dinners, and rode about in their carriages. Consequently, they were more inclined to believe them than they were to believe their servants. The laborers became so well aware of this, that they were accustomed to say to each other, "It's of no use for us to apply to the magistrates. They are so poisoned by massa's turtle-soup." It has been computed by missionaries that, in the course of two years, sixty thousand apprentices received, among them all, two hundred and fifty thousand lashes, besides fifty thousand other legalized punishments, such as the tread-mill and the chain-gang.

The planters were full of complaints to travellers who visited the West Indies. If they were asked, "Why don't you emancipate your laborers entirely, and give them wages, as they do in Antigua,—they have no such troubles there?" the prejudiced men would shake their heads and answer: "Negroes will not work without being flogged. We must get what we can out of them before 1840; for when they are their own masters they will rob, murder, or starve, rather than labor."

Planters who manifested a more kind and considerate disposition had pleasanter relations with their servants, and they never found any difficulty in procuring as much labor as they wanted. Some made it easy for their apprentices to buy the remainder of their time; and it was soon observed that those who owned all their time worked faster and better than those who were without that stimulus. The idea gained ground that unconditional emancipation would be better both for masters and servants. The Marquis of Sligo, the humane Governor of Jamaica, set a good example by emancipating all his apprentices. People in England began to petition Parliament to abolish the apprenticeship, on the ground that it proved unsatisfactory and troublesome to all parties. The result was that all the apprentices in the British West Indies were made entirely free on the 1st of August, 1838. Mr. Phillippo, a Baptist missionary in Jamaica, thus describes the observance of the day in that island: "On the preceding evening, the missionary stations throughout the island were crowded with people, filling all the places of worship. They remained at their devotions till the day of liberty dawned, when they saluted it with joyous acclamations. Then they dispersed through the towns and villages, singing 'God save the queen,' and rending the air with their shouts,—'Freedom's come!' 'We're free! we're free!' 'Our wives and children are free!' During the day, the places of worship were crowded to suffocation. The scenes presented exceeded all description. Joyous excitement pervaded the whole island. At Spanish Town, the Governor, Sir Lionel Smith, addressed the emancipated people, who formed a procession of seven thousand, and escorted the children of the schools, about two thousand in number, to the Government House. They bore banners and flags with various inscriptions, of which the following are samples: 'Education, Religion, and Social Order'; 'August First, 1838,—the Day of our Freedom'; 'Truth and Justice have at last prevailed.' The children sang before the Government House, and his Excellency made a speech characterized by simplicity and kindness, which was received with enthusiastic cheers. The procession then escorted their pastor to his house. In front of the Baptist Chapel were three triumphal arches, decorated with leaves and flowers, and surmounted by flags bearing the inscriptions, 'Freedom has come!' 'Slavery is no more!' 'The chains are broken, Africa is free!' There were many flags bearing the names of their English benefactors,—Clarkson, Wilberforce, Sligo, Thompson, etc. When these were unfurled, the enthusiasm of the multitude rose to the highest pitch. For nearly an hour the air rang with exulting shouts, in which the shrill voices of two thousand children joined, singing, 'We're free! we're free!' Several of the kindly disposed planters gave rural fêtes to the laborers. Long tables were spread in the lawns, arches of evergreens were festooned with flowers, and on the trees floated banners bearing the names of those who had been most conspicuous in bringing about this blessed result. Songs were sung, speeches made, prayers offered, and a plentiful repast eaten." Mr. Phillippo says: "The conduct of the newly emancipated peasantry would have done credit to Christians of the most civilized country in the world. They were clean in their persons, and neat in their attire. Their behavior was modest, unassuming, and decorous in a high degree. There was no crowding, no vulgar familiarity, but all were courteous and obliging to each other, as members of one harmonious family. There was no dancing, gambling, or carousing. All seemed to have a sense of the obligations they owed to their masters, to each other, and to the civil authorities. The masters who were present at these fêtes congratulated their former dependents on the boon they had received, and hopes were mutually expressed that all past differences and wrongs might be forgiven."

On some of the estates where these festivals were held the laborers, with few individual exceptions, went to work as usual on the following day. Many of them gave their first week of free labor as an offering of good-will to their masters. Thus the period from which many of the planters had apprehended the worst consequences passed away in peace and harmony.

It is now twenty-seven years since the laborers in the British West Indies have been made entirely free; and the missionaries, the magistrates, and even the masters agree that the laborers are much more faithful and industrious under the new system than they were under the iron rule of Slavery. It is true, some of the old planters growled as long as they lived. They had always predicted that freedom would bring ruin on all classes, and it vexed them to see the negroes behaving so well. They, however, made the most of the fact that there was less sugar made than in former years. It was their own fault. The emancipated slaves wanted to stay and work on the plantations where they had always lived. But the masters could not give up their old habits of meanness and tyranny. Their laborers could scarcely support life with the very small wages they received; and yet they took from them the little patches of provision-ground which they had formerly had, and charged them enormously high rent for their miserable little huts. It seemed as if they wanted to drive them to robbery, that they might say, "We told you it would be so, if you set them free."

But the freedmen disappointed them. Under all discouragements, they persisted in behaving well. When they found that they could not get a living on the old plantations where they wanted to stay, they went to work on railroads, and wherever they could find employment. They laid up as much as they could of their wages, and bought bits of land, on which they built comfortable cabins for themselves, and laid out little gardens. Their wives and children raised poultry and tended a cow, and carried vegetables and butter and eggs to market, in baskets poised on their heads. With the money thus earned they bought more land and added to their little stock of furniture. Though the men received only from eighteen to twenty-four cents a day, out of which they boarded themselves, they were so industrious and saving that in four years the freedmen in Jamaica alone had bought and paid for one hundred thousand acres of land, and put up dwellings thereon. Mr. Phillippo states, that during that time as many as two hundred new villages of freedmen were formed. These villages generally received the names of benefactors, such as Clarkson, Wilberforce, Thompson, &c. To their own little homes they also gave names indicative of their gratitude and contentment. They called them "Save Rent," "A Little of My Own," "Heart's Love," "Liberty and Content," "Happy Retreat," "Jane's Delight," "Thank God to see It," &c.

Mr. Phillippo says:—

"These free villages are regularly laid out. The houses are small, many of them built of stone or wood, with shingled roofs, green blinds, and verandahs, to shield them from the sun. Most of them are neatly thatched, and generally plastered and whitewashed both outside and in. They now have looking-glasses, chairs, and side-boards decorated with pretty articles of glass and crockery. Each dwelling has its little plot of vegetables, generally neatly kept; and many of them have flower-gardens in front, glowing with all the bright hues of the tropics. The groups often presented are worthy of the painter's pencil or the poet's song. Amid the stillness of a Sabbath evening, many families, after their return from the house of God, may be seen gathered together in the shadow of the trees, which overhang their cottages, singing hymns, or listening to the reading of the Scriptures, with none to molest or make them afraid."

Mr. Charles Tappan of Boston, who visited Jamaica several years after emancipation, writes:—

"On landing at Kingston, I must confess I was half inclined to believe the story so industriously circulated, that the emancipated slave is more idle and vicious than any other of God's intelligent creatures; but when I rode through the valleys and over the mountains, and found everywhere an industrious, sober people, I concluded all the vagabonds of the island had moved to the sea-shore, to pick up a precarious living by carrying baggage, begging, &c.; and such, upon inquiry, I found to be the fact. Wherever I went in the rural districts, I found contented men and women, cultivating sugar-cane, and numerous vegetables and fruits, on their own account. Their neat, well-furnished cottages compared well with the dwellings of pioneers in our own country. I found in them mahogany furniture, crockery and glass ware, and shelves of useful books. I saw Africans, of unmixed blood, grinding their own sugar-cane in their own mills, and making their own sugar.

"I attended a large meeting called to decide the question about inviting a schoolmaster to settle among them. There was only one man who doubted the expediency of taking the children from work and sending them to school. One said, 'My little learning enabled me to see that a note, given to me in payment for a horse was not written according to contract.' Another said, 'I should have been wronged out of forty pounds of coffee I sold in Kingston the other day, if I hadn't known how to cipher.' Another said, 'I shall not have much property to leave my children; but if they have learning they can get property.' Another said, 'Those that can read will be more likely to get religion.' All these people had been slaves, or were the children of slaves. I saw no intoxicated person in Jamaica; and when it is considered that every man there can make rum, it strikes me as very remarkable."

One of the most striking characteristics of this colored peasantry is their desire to obtain education for themselves and their children. After a hard day's work, women would often walk miles, with babies in their arms, to learn the alphabet. With the first money they can spare they build school-houses and chapels and hire teachers. They also form charitable societies and contribute money to help the aged and sick among them. In the days of Slavery they herded together like animals; but now it is considered disreputable and wrong to live together without being married. In the days of Slavery they wore ragged and filthy garments, but freedom has made them desirous of making a neat appearance. Their working-clothes are generally well mended and clean, and they keep a pretty suit to attend meeting and other festival occasions. They are very careful of their best clothes. When they go to dances, or social gatherings, they carry them in a basket, nicely folded and covered up, and put them on when they arrive; and when they are about to return home they again pack them up carefully. When they have far to walk to meeting, over rough and dusty roads, they carry their shoes and stockings till they come in sight of the church.

This is not at all like what the old planters prophesied, when they said that if the negroes were freed they would skulk in the woods and steal yams to keep them from starving. But all that silly talk has passed away. Everybody in the British West Indies acknowledges that emancipation has proved a blessing both to the white and the black population. There is not a planter to be found there who would restore Slavery again, if his own wish could do it.

THE LAST NIGHT OF SLAVERY.

MADISON WASHINGTON.

If he had hated Slavery before, he naturally hated it worse after he had married Susan; for a handsome woman, who is a slave, is constantly liable to insult and wrong, from which an enslaved husband has no power to protect her. They laid plans to escape; but unfortunately their intention was discovered before they could carry it into effect. To avoid being sold to the far South, where he could have no hopes of ever rejoining his beloved Susan, he ran to the woods, where he remained concealed several months, suffering much from privation and anxiety. His wife knew where he was, and succeeded in conveying some messages to him, without being detected. She persuaded him not to wait for a chance to take her with him, but to go to Canada and earn money enough to buy her freedom, and then she would go to him.

He travelled only in the night, and by careful management, after a good deal of hardship, he reached the Northern States, and passed into Canada. There he let himself out to work on the farm of a man named Dickson. He was so strong, industrious, intelligent, and well behaved, that the farmer hoped to keep him a long time in his employ. He never mentioned that he was born a slave; for the idea was always hateful to him, and he thought also that circumstances might arise which would render it prudent to keep his own secret. He showed little inclination for conversation, and occupied every leisure moment in learning to read and write. He remained there half a year, without any tidings from his wife; for there are many difficulties in the way of slaves communicating with each other at a distance. He became sad and restless. His employer noticed it, and tried to cheer him up. One day he said to him: "Madison, you seem to be discontented. What have you to complain of? Do you think you are not treated well here? Or are you dissatisfied with the wages I give you?"

"I have no complaint to make of my treatment, sir," replied Madison. "You have been just and kind to me; and since you manifest so much interest in me, I will tell you what it is that makes me so gloomy."

He then related his story, and told how his heart was homesick for his dear Susan. He said she was so handsome that they would ask a high price for her, and he had been calculating that it would take him years to earn enough to buy her; meanwhile, he knew not what might happen to her. There was no law to protect a slave, and he feared all sorts of things; especially, he was afraid they might sell her to the far South, where he could never trace her. So he said he had made up his mind to go back to Virginia and try to bring her away. Mr. Dickson urged him not to attempt it. He reminded him of the dangers he would incur: that he would run a great risk of getting back into Slavery, and that perhaps he himself would be sold to the far South, where he never would be able to communicate with his wife. But Madison replied, "I am well aware of that, sir; but freedom does me no good unless Susan can share it with me."

He accordingly left his safe place of refuge, and started for Virginia. He had free-papers made out, which he thought would protect him till he arrived in the neighborhood where he was known. He also purchased several small files and saws, which he concealed in the lining of his clothes. With these tools he thought he could effect his escape from prison, if he should be taken up on the suspicion of being a runaway slave. Passing through the State of Ohio, he met several who had previously seen him on his way to Canada. They all tried to persuade him not to go back to Virginia; telling him there were nine chances out of ten that he would get caught and carried back into Slavery again. But his answer always was, "Freedom does me no good while my wife is a slave."

When he came to the region where he was known, he hid in woods and swamps during the day, and travelled only in the night. At last he came in sight of his master's farm, and hid himself in the woods near by. There he remained several days, in a dreadful state of suspense and anxiety. He could not contrive any means to obtain information concerning his wife. He was afraid they might have sold her, for fear she would follow him. He prowled about in the night, in hopes of seeing some old acquaintance, who would tell him whether she was still at the old place; but he saw no one whom he could venture to trust. At last fortune favored him. One evening he heard many voices singing, and he knew by their songs that they were slaves. As they passed up the road, he came out from the woods and joined them. There were so many of them that the addition of one more was not noticed. He found that they were slaves from several plantations, who had permits from their masters to go to a corn-shucking. They were merry, for they were expecting to have a lively time and a comfortable supper. Being a moonless evening, they could not see Madison's face, and he was careful not to let them discover who he was. He went with them to the corn-shucking; and, keeping himself in the shadow all the time, he contrived, in the course of conversation, to find out all he wanted to know. Susan was not sold, and she was living in the same house where he had left her. He was hungry, for he had been several days without food, except such as he could pick up in the woods; but he did not dare to show his face at the supper, where dozens would be sure to recognize him. So he skulked away into the woods again, happy in the consciousness that his Susan was not far off.

He resolved to attempt to see her the next night. He was afraid to tap at her window after all the people in the Great House were abed and asleep; for, as she supposed he was in Canada, he thought she might be frightened and call somebody. He therefore ventured to approach her room in the evening. Unfortunately, the overseer saw him, and called a number of whites, who rushed into the room just as he entered it. He fought hard, and knocked down three of them in his efforts to escape. But they struck at him with their bowie-knives till he was so faint with loss of blood that he could resist no longer. They chained him and carried him to Richmond, where he was placed in the jail. His prospects were now dreary enough. His long-cherished hope of being reunited to his dear wife vanished away in the darkness of despair.

There was a slave-trader in Richmond buying a gang of slaves for the market of New Orleans. Madison Washington was sold to him, and carried on board the brig Creole, owned by Johnson and Eperson, of Richmond, and commanded by Captain Enson. The brig was lying at the dock waiting for her cargo, which consisted of tobacco, hemp, flax, and slaves. There were two separate cabins for the slaves: one for the men and the other for the women. Some of the poor creatures belonged to Johnson and Eperson, some to Thomas McCargo, and some to Henry Hewell. Each had a little private history of separation and sorrow. There was many a bleeding heart there, beside the noble heart that was throbbing in the bosom of Madison Washington. His purchasers saw that he was intelligent, and they knew that he was sold for having escaped to Canada. He was therefore chained to the floor of the cabin and closely watched. He seemed quiet and even cheerful, and they concluded that he was reconciled to his fate. On the contrary, he was never further from such a state of mind. He closely observed the slaves who were in the cabin with him. His discriminating eye soon selected those whom he could trust. To them he whispered that there were more than a hundred slaves on board, and few whites. He had his saws and files still hidden in the lining of his clothes. These were busily used to open their chains, while the captain and crew were asleep. They still continued to wear their chains, and no one suspected that they could slip their hands and feet out at their pleasure.

When the Creole had been nine days out they encountered rough weather. Most of the slaves were sea-sick, and therefore were not watched so closely as usual. On the night of November 7, 1841, the wind was blowing hard. The captain and mate were on deck, and nearly all the crew. Mr. Henry Hewell, one of the owners of the cargo of slaves, who had formerly been a slave-driver on a plantation, was seated on the companion, smoking a cigar. The first watch had just been summoned, when Madison Washington sprang on deck, followed by eighteen other slaves. They seized whatever they could find to use as weapons. Hewell drew a pistol from under his coat, fired at one of the slaves and killed him. Madison Washington struck at him with a capstan-bar, and he fell dead at his feet. The first and second mates both attacked Madison at once. His strong arms threw them upon the deck wounded, but not killed. He fought for freedom, not for revenge; and as soon as they had disarmed the whites and secured them safely, he called out to his accomplices not to shed blood. With his own hands he dressed the wounds of the crew, and told them they had nothing to fear if they would obey his orders. The man who had been a chained slave half an hour before was now master of the vessel, and his grateful companions called him Captain Washington. Being ignorant of navigation, he told Merritt, the first mate, that he should have the freedom of the deck, if he would take an oath to carry the brig faithfully into the nearest port of the British West Indies; and he was afraid to do otherwise.

The next morning Captain Washington ordered the cook to prepare the best breakfast the store-room could furnish, for it was his intention to give all the freed slaves a good meal. The women, who had been greatly frightened by the tumult the night before, were glad enough to come out of their close cabin into the fresh air. And who do you think was among them? Susan, the beautiful young wife of Madison, was there! She had been accused of communicating with her husband in Canada, and being therefore considered a dangerous person, she had been sold to the slave-trader to be carried to the market of New Orleans. Neither of them knew that the other was on board. With a cry of surprise and joy they rushed into each other's arms. The freed slaves threw up their caps and hurrahed again and again, till the sea-gulls wondered at the noise. O, it was a joyful, joyful time! Captain Washington was repaid for all he had suffered. He had gained his own liberty, after having struggled for it in vain for years; he had freed a hundred and thirty-four of his oppressed brethren and sisters; and he had his beloved Susan in his arms, carrying her to a land where the laws would protect their domestic happiness. He felt richer at that moment than any king with a golden crown upon his head.

There had been but two lives lost. One white man was killed in the affray, and he was the slave-driver who shot down one of the slaves. Captain Enson and others who were wounded were kindly cared for by Captain Washington. They proved ungrateful, and tried to regain possession of the vessel and the slaves. The blacks were so exasperated by this attempt, that they wanted to kill all the whites on board. But Captain Washington called out to them: "We have got our liberty, and that is all we have been fighting for. Let no more blood be shed! I have promised to protect these men. They have shown that they are not worthy of it; but let us be magnanimous."

Next morning the Creole arrived at Nassau, in the island of New Providence. Captain Washington and his companions sprang out upon free soil. There he and his beloved Susan are living under the protection of laws which make no distinctions on account of complexion.

EXTRACT FROM THE VIRGINIA BILL OF RIGHTS.

PRAISE OF CREATION.